Interpretive Dance
by YBNorml
Summary: Discontinued.
1. Chapter 1

Interpretive Dance

Chapter 1

Sara Rose Potter groaned at the sound of her older brother's door slamming. The Potter family had just moved to the country side, away from suburbia. Harry Potter, the eleven year old celebrity was currently throwing yet another tantrum over the matter. There was nothing he could do about it though, after all, they were already in their new house, and everything had been moved in. Sara couldn't use magic yet, and neither could her older brother, so that meant that she had to lay on her bed and watch their house elf unpack all of her stuff. She could hear Harry kicking things in his room, screaming at the top of his lungs about how it wasn't fair that he had to move away from all of his friends. _He's being such a drama queen about it!_ Sara thought absently, _I mean, I spent more time with my friends than he did, and you don't see _me_ whining about having to move away from them, do you? _

Harry Potter was extremely angry. Not only had he been forced to move away from all of his friends, but he was going to a new school, where he knew no one at the end of the month. What were his parents thinking? If that wasn't bad enough, his mom and dad had insisted that he go over and meet their new _neighbors_. Harry had seen his parents talking to the adults next door. Their neighbors were happy, muggle loving, and had vivid red hair. All of them covered in freckles, and their house would often sway threateningly in the slightest of breezes. Harry had worried that the strange house would fall on top of his, and both structures would end up in ruin.

This was what he had thought five years ago…

Harry Potter walked into the great hall with a massive hangover. He had been up all night drinking with Blaise and Pansy. He now seriously regretted it. Walking over to the Slytherin table, Harry took a seat next to his best friend since first year: Draco Malfoy. Draco looked over at him and smirked.

"Hangover, Harry?" Draco asked, "Wait, I like the sound of that. Hangover Harry."

"Shut up!" He grumbled, flailing at his friend with heavy arms.

"Whatever, how much _did_ you drink last night?" Draco questioned his friend incredulously.

"Too much."

Harry rubbed his temples with one tired hand. His eyes caught on a certain red head at the Gryffindor table. Ronald Weasley. Ron was bane of his existence, and the hottest guy in Gryffindor. Harry hated Ron, Ron hated Harry. They were even, and on a good day, Harry wanted to kill the red head, and then resurrect him just for the pleasure of killing him again. Though all of this was true, the Weasel still had a smile that could defrost Antarctica, and a body that screamed 'oggle me!' Harry groaned as the well known Gryffindor whore, Hermione Granger pranced of to Ron and sat down next to him. Hermione may be the smartest witch of her age, but she was also the sluttiest. She would randomly pronounce to the whole school that she had slept with every student in Gryffindor House. Good for her…whore. Harry watched angrily as she leant over and kissed Ron full on the lips. He gripped his goblet so hard in his hand that his knuckles turned white. Suddenly, Hermione pulled back from Ron with a shriek. Her hair became frizzier than usual; her skin turned a royal purple and her lips a piss yellow. Her fingernails turned bright red, and her tongue began to swell in her mouth. Harry smirked in satisfaction as Ron stared at her disgusted. Hermione ran crying from the room and all the Slytherins guffawed at the sight.

Draco slapped him on the back proudly, before announcing that he had to head off for _classes_. Harry and Draco were the well known class skippers of the school. It was amazing how they both received top marks in all of their classes, and would hardly ever attend. Usually, they would ask for the homework schedules from all of their teachers, and then proceed to spend four days doing the next three months homework for all of their classes. After that, they would turn in the work, and not show up for class for the next three months. Unless, of course, they had set up some marvelous prank that they just _had_ to see in the works. So as Draco headed back to the Slytherin common room, Harry decided that he would go to a few of his classes that day. After all, they only had a few more weeks before they would have to collect the homework schedules again. Harry and Draco were both taking all N.E.W.T. classes. Harry winced, _that week is going to be painful_.

Harry walked into transfiguration wearing nothing but fluorescent pink swimming trunks, and a silver bowtie. He sat down next to a rather startled Gryffindor girl, and stared cheekily up at Proffessor McGonagall. She knew better than he did that he had no reason to show up for class that day. He had already completed all the necessary tests, and homework. If that wasn't bad enough, his attire was rather unsettling for the woman. She scowled at him, before continuing the lesson. Harry waved at her, showing her his most fake smile. Then, he turned to stare at the delicious body of one Ronald Weasley. Ron was currently staring into space, looking like he was about to fall asleep. His long red hair was hanging in his face, and hazel eyes were glazed over. Full pale pink lips were slightly parted, and his lean torso was hidden beneath a school sweater. _Ah, the injustices of society…_Harry moaned mentally at the amount of clothing Ron was wearing.

Ron was completely oblivious to Harry's ogling, and then began the pitiful attempt of transfiguring a goblet into a miniature poodle. Harry, momentarily awoken from his drooling, decided to help the pathetic red head. He meandered over to Ron's desk and took hold of his right hand. Ron looked up at him startled, slightly fearful as his wand was in his right hand. However strong Ron was, Harry was stronger, and the Gryffindor knew that he wouldn't be able to remove his hand from the brunette's grip if said brunette was determined. Harry moved Ron's hand in a casual flick, followed by an intricate pattern, and Harry muttering an incantation. During all of this, Harry and Ron's eyes remained locked. Suddenly, a chipper yipping alerted Ron that his goblet had been successfully turned into a miniature poodle.

Everyone around them gasped. A Slytherin had _helped_ a Gryffindor? That must have been an all time first. Harry would have laughed at their behavior if he had not heard the almost inaudible whine Ron made when he removed his hand from Ron's. Smirking triumphantly as though he had won the most coveted prize of all, Harry left the class with a little more wiggle in his waggle. He skipped down the hall, ignoring Mrs. Norris's disapproving meow, and then Filch's threats. His fluorescent pink swimming trunks were like a homing beacon in the dim halls. The people and animals in the portraits didn't weren't surprised at the sight of a sixteen year old boy frolicking down the corridors in nothing but pink shorts and a silver bowtie. In fact, several of the paintings greeted Harry as he passed. Things like this were a regular occurrence ever since Harry Potter's first year at Hogwarts. Everyone was used to it by now. Harry delightfully returned the greeting and shouted his victory to Draco upon entering the common room.

As Harry eagerly related the tale of what had happened during transfiguration to Draco, the pale blonde scowled, "Why should I care about this?"

"Because you're my best friend, Dragon, and I have no one else to rant to, that's why!" Harry pouted threateningly, and Draco consented.

Harry had made up the nickname for his friend around third year. He only used it when he was serious, or they were all alone, or when Harry was extremely upset about something. So Draco calmed down and listened to his friend ramble on, knowing that this was important to the slightly shorter brunette. The two had been the closest of friends ever since they had met first year…

_Harry mentally pondered the consequences of beating the red head sitting opposite him to death. Whatever consequences he received, they surely would be worth it! God damn, this pity case was raining on his parade, not only that but he was annoying and wouldn't shut up! What the hell! This guy just couldn't take a hint! Harry was so grateful to the person who opened the compartment door, (temporarily halting Ronald Weasley's speech) that he thought that he might glomp them. There standing in the door way was an eleven year old boy with golden blonde hair, and cutely pointed nose, and absurdly pale skin. He had acne near his right ear lobe, and his grey eyes looked at Ron with disgust. _

_"You must be a Weasley! Muggle loving, babbling, red headed, annoying lot!" Draco sneered and Harry knew then and there that this boy would understand him perfectly._

_"You, you're Harry Potter, aren't you?" He asked curiously._

_Harry nodded, "Yeah, and you are?"_

_"Draco, Draco Malfoy." He announced proudly._

"_Nice to meet you, are you sitting in another compartment? I'm in such desperate need to get away from the redheaded chatterbox…" Harry started._

_Ron flushed a bright red, spreading to the tips of his ears as he looked embarrassedly down at the floor of the compartment. Harry felt slightly guilty for a moment but then the feeling washed away as he took Draco's hand and followed him out of the compartment. _

Eventually, Harry's throat got sore, and he stopped talking. Much to Draco's delight, the brunette looked like he was about to fall asleep. Draco pushed Harry down onto the couch and covered him with a blanket. The sixteen year old boy now resting on the couch began snoring. Draco laughed quietly and headed out of the common room towards lunch. His stomach grumbled, and knew that Harry would murder him for not taking him to lunch, but right now the sound of Harry snoring away in the common room was quite pleasing.

_"Harry Potter!" Professor McGonagall cried._

_Harry smirked over at Malfoy and took a seat on the stool and allowed the elderly witch to place the sorting hat on his head. The old hat rattled off all of Harry's qualities to him: cunning, intelligent, devious, brave, _a thirst to prove himself_, sarcastic, spoiled, powerful…_

_"Slytherin!" _

_Harry grinned widely as he went to sit down next to Draco. Looking over at his Uncle Sirius sitting at the staff table, Harry waved happily. His Uncle Sirius's wave was not as enthusiastic, and slightly disappointed. Harry wondered for a long time why his Uncle Sirius was not happy about him being sorted into Slytherin. It wasn't until he returned home for the holidays that he found out why. That exact moment where he met Malfoy on the train, where he had asked to join him in his compartment, the moment when Harry had killed Voldemort, yet his parents had survived, the moment where he was sorted into Slytherin, unknowingly the whole course of the universe had been altered. With those choices, and those twists of fate, Harry Potter's life as _we_ know it, never came to be…_

Draco Malfoy sat down at the Slytherin table for dinner and almost choked on his pumpkin juice at the sight of Harry Potter. Harry Potter, the ultimate school rebel, the most admired Slytherin, and the child prodigy who had defeated the 'undefeatable' Lord Voldemort. He had walked into the Great Hall dressed up as a circus clown. That was Harry's thing. He would attend classes, and meals in outrageous outfits. He seemed to get a kick out of the looks on people's faces at his ever changing attire. Once during his third year, Harry had shaved his head, died his eyebrows electric blue, and pierced his naval. His whole third year he wore nothing but tube tops and royal purple cameo jeans. Mr. and Mrs. Potter were NOT pleased.

During his fourth year, Harry Potter had cut off his shaggy hair once again, only then he wore it in gelled hot pink spikes. He magicked his eyes violet, and wore only black all year long.

In his fifth year, Harry had completed all of his homework, including his O.W.L tests in the first month and a half of the school year. After that, had hung out at school, he never attended classes, went to meals and would often sleep in till noon. His rivals hated him even more. Harry got to sleep in. That was one of the most sought after privileges in the entire school. Harry Potter had achieved the goal only two other students had managed to reach in their seventh year: Fred and George Weasley. Harry Potter was the most hated fifth year in all of Hogwarts student history for a good long time. After all, he didn't have to do anything for pretty much the whole school year; he got perfect grades, and eleven out of eleven Outstanding O.W.Ls. He could choose any career path he wanted, and attend any classes he felt like in his sixth year. How the student body hated him…

Harry came and sat down next to his best friend. He reached up an amused hand to squeeze his big red nose. A loud honking noise echoed through the great hall. Harry was quite entertained, Professor Snape was not entertained, he was embarrassed. However much he favored the students in his house, Severus had great difficulty restraining himself from taking away points from his house, or giving Harry a detention. The boy was clever, he was genius, but he was also extremely annoying and well…_odd_.

_Harry walked into class on his first day of his second year at Hogwarts. His first year had been an experiment. He had tested the limits, to see what he could, or couldn't get away with. Now, he knew his limits, and decided to push them. He strutted into Charms in beach shorts and a Hawaiian button up shirt. From then on, Hogwarts would never be the same._


	2. Chapter 2

Interpretive Dance

Chapter 2

Harry, currently, was running full speed through the halls away from Mrs. Norris, Mr. Filch, and one grieving howler from one Mrs. Potter. Today was the two year anniversary of Harry's little sister's death. She had been killed by a rogue death eater, still faithful to the dark lord after all these years. Ever since then, Lily Potter had a habit of sending loud wailing howlers to her son about her deceased daughter. Harry, personally, had managed to move on a couple months after the death of his baby sister. He acknowledged that yes, he did love his sister, he was sad that she had died, but she was in a better place now and he might as well move on with his life instead of moping around. His mother hadn't really reached that point in time yet.

Harry ran over to the one place that he knew to be a safe haven. Approaching the gargoyle statue at full speed he exclaimed in mid stride, 'Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans!' The gargoyle hopped out of the way just in time for Harry to make it into the stairwell. The statue hopped back in place several minutes before Filch rounded the corner, clueless as to where exactly, Harry Potter had gone. Grumbling about mischievous little demons, the old squibbly caretaker hobbled off with his precious cat in tow.

The 16-year-old celebrity galloped up the stair case, and tumbled into the headmaster's office with great relief. Harry crawled over to Dumbledore's desk, and climbed into the chair facing the headmaster. He panted, trying to regain his breath after sprinting away from a howler, a cat, and a sadistic school caretaker for an hour and a half. Dumbledore looked at him seriously over the rims of his half-moon glasses.

"Harry, you can't keep hiding in here, you know." He told one of his favorite students solemnly. The twinkle in his eyes was not present this time.

Harry did a double take at his headmaster; the old wizened wizard seemed too serious, "Are you alright, Headmaster?"

"I'm quite alright, Harry." Albus waved off Harry's question before getting to the matter he had hoped to attend to at a much later date, "The teachers have come complaining to me all this year, Harry."

"Why?" Harry asked, "I've being doing all my homework, and my tests, in fact I'm doing great in all of my classes."

"Well, you see, they're not exactly happy with the pranks and your attire on some days, and lack thereof on others." Dumbledore smirked at a now blushing Harry.

"But, Headmaster, you've never had a problem with their complaints in the past! You've always told them that I'm just using _self-expression_ as an outlet for my excess of energy!"

"I know, Harry, I know. But I also assured them, that you would soon grow out of it."

"What!" Harry groaned he really didn't want to have six years worth of detentions piling up on him this year! There were so many good pranks he wanted to pull off before he graduated from Hogwarts.

"I need you to try and behave for just a couple of months," Dumbledore whispered conspiratorially, "The staff needs a little time to unwind. You don't need to go to classes as long as you keep up with the months of homework at a time routine. All I ask is that you dress up in your school uniform appropriately if you choose to go to class, that you don't play any pranks, and you don't act out in class or anywhere else in the castle, or on the grounds during the school day."

Harry nodded glumly before leaving the office in a huff. That was not what he had expected when he had stumbled into Dumbledore's office. He had expected a perfectly chilled glass of pumpkin juice and a game of wizard's chess while Filch and Mrs. Norris calmed down. But no, he had to get the lecture-mode Dumbledore that day. What was with that? Harry huffed his way to the Slytherin common room, planning on whining all about it to Draco.

When he reached the Slytherin common room, Draco was not there. Scowling, Harry made his way up to the sixth year boy dormitories, hoping to find Draco there. His dragon was not in any of the designated whining places! This was just _not_ his day. Harry flopped dramatically onto his bed. What was a poor, prank and strange attire deprived teenage wizard to do?

**TBC…**


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